


Why Have You Come?

by GirlofAction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlofAction/pseuds/GirlofAction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You are a stranger here, why have you come?</i>
</p><p>The one where Stiles is being sacrificed to protect the village from werewolves because he bears the mark of the wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Have You Come?

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the AU description in [this amazing art post](http://tsuminubiaru.tumblr.com/post/87343372924/celtictribe-au-the-one-where-stiles-is-being) by [tsuminubiaru](http://tsuminubiaru.tumblr.com/).

"You're not going to them."

His father always spoke with conviction, even then, when circumstances were beyond his control. As if, maybe, he could say the words, keep them steady, and that would make them true. Stiles had appreciated it, respected it, loved him for it... but the rules that brought him out across the lake, that having him wading now from his boat to the shore across from home, aren’t written in stone. They’re written in the stars, and on him. 

The water is cold, still and glassy until he’s standing in it. He goes to the wolves having nothing, wearing nothing, because they require nothing from him but him. His life to save the lives of those he loves, and even those he doesn’t. It’s his burden, his responsibility. He’d been taught to accept it since he was old enough to understand, but his heart still races.

Every step feels heavier, every breath more shallow, and the shore doesn’t seem to be getting any closer until he finds himself standing on it. There’s rustling in the treeline not twenty feet from the shore and he knows that they can smell every ounce of fear in his body, hear the pounding in his chest. There have been stories about what happens when wolves descend upon the town, but there are more than stories lurking in the woods, watching him.

Stiles has always known that he was to be sacrificed when he came of age. He never thought to ask what that meant, because somehow, assuming the worst was less terrifying and more certain. It’s easier, besides, to think that it’s all going to be over soon.

He stands on shore waiting, because accepting his fate isn’t the same as running toward it, and time stretches around him. There’s nothing to hear except the wind, the occasional snap of the twig, and the unmistakable rustling of predators biding their time, pacing back and forth. The sun is dipping just below the trees when he begins to wonder if there’s been a mistake, or if the wolves have just decided that he simply isn’t worth their time.

Not for the first time, he wonders if he can make it back to the boat.

A man breaks through the treeline before Stiles can convince himself that he’d have an actual chance in the water, and he immediately decides that it’s for the best. He’s as tall as he is, but broader, more well muscled, and watching Stiles closely. Stiles doesn’t see a weapon, but it’s not as though a werewolf would need one.

The stranger approaches and Stiles immediately realizes how little he understands. The wolf is just a man; he walks like one, moves like one. There are no claws or fangs or fur, just dark hair and an eerily steady gaze that makes him feel like prey.

Stiles isn’t sure if he’s supposed to speak, but the man crosses the shore to stand in front of him, close enough to touch, and he feels like he should bolt. Maybe this is a hunt, maybe he’s been a fool, maybe he was supposed to run…

But the man, the _wolf_ , just reaches up and touches his bare shoulder, grip surprisingly careful. Stiles isn’t sure what to say or do until he realizes that he’s being turned around, exposing his back and the mark that brought him here. His entire body tenses, and he waits for pain, or nothing, but neither comes.

He looks over his shoulder to find himself being stared at again, and he wishes he could read the expression. He wants to say something, to ask what he’s done wrong, or what he’s done _right_ , but he doesn’t have the chance, feeling a grip that’s too strong, too firm to be human at the back of his neck. It disappears just as quickly as it comes, the wolf turning away and starting back toward the trees without a word. Stiles bites down every question in his throat as the wolf turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“You’re coming with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to expand on this one day, but I was inspired by the post and wanted to get a quick ficlet out just to get a feel of mood, at the very least. 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://wolfitude.co.vu)! I have a lot of feelings about teen woofs and boys with moles.


End file.
